


for you are not beside but within me

by obsessivelymoody



Series: tiit fics [9]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Introspection, M/M, Tourism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody
Summary: Dan and Phil spend a day off in Vancouver





	for you are not beside but within me

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [schiefergrau](http://schiefergrau.tumblr.com/) for beta reading this and putting up with me <3
> 
> This was written for phandomficfests Tour Fest!

Sun filters into the hotel room from the gaps between the curtains. 

Dan stirs, rolling into the centre of the bed. He feels a slight pang of disappointment in his chest when he doesn’t collide with a warm and fleshy Phil, but he remembers the conversation they’d had last night, their bellies full of celebratory drinks and Dan’s head swirling with thoughts he wanted to deal with alone. 

The end of the North American leg of the tour brought bittersweet feelings, stuffed with relief and and a strange sense of melancholy that made Dan’s head spin. 

So naturally, time spent alone contemplating and muddling through his thoughts was essential to Dan. Not that Phil minds, of course. (Though needing space didn’t stop them from falling asleep on the phone to each other). 

But right now, all that’s on Dan’s mind is Phil. And breakfast. 

Reaching over to the bedside table, Dan picks up the hotel’s menu and his phone. 

_mornussy_ , Dan texts before opening the menu. 

Dan’s phone buzzes. 

_What are you getting?_

_hmm_  
_granola with tea? i think_  
_wbu_

_Blueberry pancakes and a latte_  
_I want to absorb as much maple syrup as I can while we’re still in Canada_

_Lol i expect nothing less_

_Want to have it with me?_

It’s silly how Dan’s heart races at the question. But even though they’ve spent less than 24 hours apart, he misses Phil. 

Dan shoots a quick text back before pushing back the covers and searching for a pair of pants.

_coming in 5_

_yee_

*

Phil’s laptop is blaring a show on Netflix that both of them have already seen. It doesn’t matter though, as the show only serves as background noise to their quiet banter and the metallic clatter of cutlery against ceramic. 

“So we have dinner reservations tonight,” Phil says casually, swiping his last bite of pancake through far too much maple syrup. “For after we do the touristy stuff with Marianne and Charlie.” 

Dan pauses, spoon halfway between his mouth and the bowl. He puts it down. 

“What?”

“I booked us in for dinner at a restaurant later,” Phil repeats. “You know, I made reservations.” 

“Yeah, I got that thanks,” Dan huffs. “When did you do this?”

“This morning when I was waiting for you to text me.” 

“Okay then,” Dan says. “Where are we eating?”

“Spoilers,” Phil says, a grin stretching wide across his face. 

Dan sighs. “Really?”

“You’ll love it,” Phil says. 

“Okay,” Dan takes a bite of his granola. “I’ll take your word for it, but I don’t trust whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.” 

“It’s just—it’ll be nice,” Phil says. “I think it’ll be nice.” 

His voice wavers a bit, and Dan lays a hand on Phil’s knee. 

“Alright,” Dan smiles at him. “I’ll look forward to it then.” 

Phil’s phone chimes with a text as he returns the smile.

“Hurry up and eat,” Phil says, focused on his phone. “That was Marianne. We have an hour before a car comes to pick us up.” 

* 

The four of them pile into a car, and it's a relatively quick drive to a wide expanse of pavement, littered with people. 

They made plans, or rather, Marianne made plans and asked if they wanted to join them on their trip to the Capilano Suspension Bridge in North Vancouver. Apparently it’s a popular place to visit, and both of them figured it would probably best to get some air today. 

They end up in a queue for a shuttle bus, chatting to Marianne and Charlie as they wait, listening to the city thrive around them. 

When a large white bus pulls up, friendly looking staff in blue shirts usher the queue into the bus. 

The driver greets them as they walk onto the bus, and Dan smiles at him, unprepared for the sudden interaction. 

There's air conditioning inside the bus, which Dan counts as a blessing. They sit somewhere near the middle of the bus on kind of scratchy seats, but they're cushioned and the backs are tall enough for both of them to sit comfortably. Dan lets Phil have the window seat, lest he gets travel sick. 

“Hello?” 

A voice over the intercom in the bus makes Dan jump out of his skin. 

“Jesus fucking—” Dan murmurs under his breath as Phil silently laughs at him. 

“We’re just going to get going in a few moments here folks, but I hope all of you are here for the direct ride to the Suspension Bridge. If not, you’re in the wrong place.” 

It registers in Dan’s mind that it’s the driver talking over the intercom as he relaxes into his seat again. 

A couple minutes later the bus pulls away from the curb, and the driver continues talking, pointing out buildings and aspects of the city’s cultural landscape that Dan would have glazed over. 

The driver cracks really awful jokes throughout the twenty minute trip, and Dan shakes his head in mock disappointment at Phil when he snickers at every single one. 

He chats non-stop, telling the passengers random stories about his wife between informative tidbits about Vancouver, and even uses Trump as the brunt of a joke about climate change when he explains the forest fires and the smoke in the air. As they get closer to the bridge, he recommends his favourite spots in the park, and takes an inordinate amount of time to talk about the boardwalk. 

Eventually the ride comes to an end, and they both thank the driver when they exit the shuttle, who’s as chatty as ever to the departing passengers. 

The view when they enter the park, despite being tinged with smoke, is lovely. The evergreen trees perfectly surround the ravine beneath them, and the sun makes the water sparkle against the rocks. Dan wants to stop and take photos, but people are moving quickly, and he thinks it would probably be rude.

“That’s a high bridge,” Phil says when they reach the start of it. Dan watches the cables sway and his stomach drops. 

“Alright, boys?” Marianne says beside them. 

“Not quite what we expected,” Dan says. 

“What did you think a suspension bridge was?” She teases. 

She marches ahead of them, and they follow her, Charlie bringing up the rear. 

It’s an odd sensation, being up so high and feeling so wobbly, but knowing that it’s extremely unlikely that anything bad would happen. 

“This is awful,” Phil says behind him. “People must be swaying this thing on purpose.” 

“You’re not going to puke, are you?” Dan asks. The pressure in his stomach eases as he gets used to the bridge, but judging by Phil’s squeaks behind him, he’s not faring as well as Dan is. 

“Almost there, Philly,” Dan says. “Just try not to throw up on me.” 

Phil laughs nervously, but soon enough they’ve made it across. Dan lays a hand on Phil’s shoulder, as the rest of them commiserate with him. Dan wishes that they weren’t in public so he could do more to comfort him, but Charlie says something that brings a smile to Phil’s face, which is more than enough for Dan. 

They make plans to meet back at the bridge in a few hours, splitting off in different directions in the park. 

They spend the day wandering around the park, reading about the Squamish Nation, the group indigenous to this part of the land, and looking at their art. Several infographics littered the park, telling them about the ecology of the forest here, and the history of the bridge. They marvel at the trees that are hundreds of thousands of years old, and laugh as Phil manages to have several close calls with the park’s wildlife. 

“Careful,” Dan says as the round the corner on a second of the boardwalk. “You don’t want to get bit in the Florida again.” 

“Rude.”

Dan slows his pace as they reach a large expanse of wood with caged huts built on one side. 

“Ohh,” Phil says. “Birds.” 

They walk down a couple stairs to stand amongst the small crowd standing in front of a lanky young guy with a 70s style afro, who Dan guesses to be his height or taller based on the way his limbs are crammed into the plastic chair he’s sitting on. He’s got a regal looking bird on his arm. 

‘SAKER FALCON’ reads the sign hanging on the cage behind the handler, which Dan guesses must be the species. 

“She screams when I move even a little bit,” Dan hears the handler say when they get closer. “She’s really just a diva.” 

“Sounds like you, Dan,” Phil says into his ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” Dan scoffs. “I can barely talk to you before you’ve had coffee. Or after you’ve had a nap. Or right after you’ve c—”

“Please stop,” Phil says. Dan snickers. 

Some people move on as the handler stops talking, and looks from the falcon to the crowd and back. 

Phil takes a few steps forward to get a better look, and Dan follows. 

“What kind of food does it eat?” Someone asks. 

“Tourists.” The handler, who’s name badge reads ‘Khalil’, says without missing a beat. 

Dan laughs loudly, despite himself. He feels himself flush when Khalil catches his eye. 

“What sort of tourists?” Prompts Phil beside him. 

“Oh, Australians mostly.” 

It’s not very clever humour, but Khalil’s comedic timing is so spot on that Dan and Phil find themselves chuckling far more than anyone else in the small crowd. 

Khalil launches into a spiel about how the falcon actually eats other, smaller birds during flight. Dan glances at Phil, who appears to be completely immersed in the impromptu biology lesson. 

They stay in that section longer than anyone else, listening to the handler’s jokes and taking in facts that Dan’s sure to hear from Phil every once in a while for the next couple months. 

After a bit more walking, Phil stops Dan at the food stand in the middle of the park. 

“Look they’ve got beaver balls,” Phil says, pointing at the menu. “Make a great instagram story.”

“It’s probably the same thing as a timbit,” Dan replies, but fishes out his wallet anyway. “You just want to spread your innuendo agenda.” 

Phil makes a noise of protest, but it doesn’t matter as Dan buys them, and they find a spot to make some reactions for instagram.

“You first,” Phil says, pulling out his phone. 

Dan stands there, looking around as Phil brings up instagram and points the phone at Dan.

“Ready?” Dan asks, and Phil nods, tapping the screen. 

“Come on, Dan,” Phil says from behind the phone. “Eat those balls.”

“Uh, _Phil_!” Dan whines, shaking his head. Phil and his bloody innuendos. 

He pauses for a beat before picking up one of the balls and popping it into his mouth. 

Cinnamon and sugar coat the inside of his mouth, and he shrugs, looking back at the phone. 

“It’s just kind of like a warm, sugary doughnut?” Dan says. “Seven out of ten.” 

Phil, of course, gives the balls a ten out of ten, and proceeds to eat the rest of them as they walk back to meet with Marianne and Charlie. 

When they eventually head out of the park, Dan’s sticky with sweat and a bit woozy from the altitude and the smoke in the air. 

Settling in their seats on the shuttle, Dan fights the urge to slink down and rest his head against Phil’s shoulder. He resists it though, instead spending the journey listening to Phil quietly point out things along the landscape from the window and make up silly, barely coherent stories about them. 

* 

They lounge around Phil’s hotel room when they get back, scrolling through the pictures and videos they took, queuing up posts for their instagrams until they need to get changed for dinner. 

Dan, unsure of how fancy the restaurant is, settles on a plain white button-up, hoping it’ll be sufficient enough for wherever Phil booked the reservations. 

He meets Phil in the lobby moments later. 

“Nice,” Dan says, plucking a bit of Phil’s shirt—a short-sleeved and dark blue button-up with a dinosaur print—between his fingers. 

“You too,” Phil says, nodding at Dan’s outfit. 

He feels a kind of involuntary fluttering in his chest, like he’s eighteen again and so head-over-heels that it consumes him. A piece of him wants to laugh it off and tell Phil to ‘shut up because he’s being gross’, but he can’t remember the last time they went on a date like this. So Dan just quietly thanks him as they walk out of the hotel to wait for a cab. 

The restaurant is oddly placed in a waterfront building, and Phil has to pull up Google maps once they climb out of the cab to find it. 

Of course, they walked in a circle around it and ended up finding it a few feet away from where they got out of the taxi. 

“I hope you’re in the mood for sushi,” Phil says as the climb the flight of stairs to the restaurant entrance, which rests a little ways behind the main doors of the building its in.

Phil holds the door open for Dan, who is greeted with the scent of grilled fish and a sweet, floral perfume. 

The restaurant is made up of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the harbour. It’s sleekly decorated with white, silver, and dark wood furniture, dotted with various Japanese influences. 

“Hi there,” A woman says, and Dan turns to see the hostess looking between them, a welcoming smile on her face. 

“Hi,” Phil says brightly. “I have a reservation at seven for under Lester?” 

“Just give me a...ah yes,” She taps on the tablet mounted to the podium in front of her.

“Follow me,” She says, swiftly picking up a couple menus from the stack next to her. 

She leads them through the restaurant, all the way to a table against one of the windows where she lays out their menus. 

“Your server will be with you shortly,” She says, a brilliant smile on her face. 

They thank her and take their seats. Dan looks out at the harbour, admiring the view of the city across the water, lined with rows of industrial ports, and the mountains framing it. There’s a layer of greyish smoke settling over the mountains, giving them a sort of post-apocalyptic look. Dan hardly minds though. He looks over at Phil, who appears to be equally enthralled with the view. 

“You got us a table with a view?” Dan asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, looking away from the window. 

“What the fuck did I do to deserve you?” He murmurs, opening his menu. 

“Nothing I didn’t do to deserve you,” Phil replies quietly, opening up his own menu. 

“Sap,” Dan says. 

“You started it, Danny.” 

Dan rolls his eyes, focusing back on the menu in front of him. Phil reads out a few of the particularly saccharine drinks on the menu he’s considering, and Dan wrinkles his nose, deciding on a glass of white wine. 

Not long after, their waiter comes over and introduces himself, asking if he can get them anything to drink. 

Dan looks up, and the name of the drink he wants dies on the tip of his tongue. 

The waiter—Kaito—is stupidly gorgeous. His black hair, shaved on one side, is swept back from his face in a way that’s somehow elegant while simultaneously being artfully messy. He’s got an eyebrow bar too, and tattoos that peak out from under his collared shirt and snake down his right arm where his sleeves are pushed up. His eyes are dark brown and kind-looking, and it takes Dan an inordinate amount of willpower to close his mouth that’s still hanging open. 

“I think we need a few more minutes,” Phil says. 

“No problem at all,” Kaito replies with a smile. 

“You’re embarrassing me,” Phil says when he’s out of earshot. 

“I—” Dan croaks out. His face burns. 

Phil picks up his menu again, staring intently at it. 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Dan says eventually. 

“Clearly.” Phil rolls his eyes. 

The waiter comes back a few minutes later, and Dan swallows thickly as Phil orders the sweetest cocktail they have. Thankfully, Dan manages to smoothly order a glass of white wine. 

“Nice,” Phil says to him after he leaves. 

“Fuck off.” 

Phil laughs quietly, grabbing his menu again and pointing out things that look like they’d be good to Dan. 

They order far too much specialty sushi and tempura battered fish when the Kaito comes back with their drinks. They make polite conversation with him about the food, making interested noises at his recommendations. 

Once he’s left with their order, Phil raises his glass. 

“To getting the hard part over with?” Phil says, and Dan snorts. 

“Sure. Cheers.” 

As they drink, Dan looks out the window at the water, focusing on one of the smaller boats lightly bobbing its way across the water. 

“One step closer to the plans,” Phil says. Dan tears his eyes away from the boat, looking over at Phil. 

Right. The plans. The plans that they hadn’t made yet. The plans that they’re sure they’re on the same page about, but are saving for _after_ the tour, _after_ the new year, for everything that comes _after_ the here and now. For a future that seems so far away but Dan knows is really right around the corner. 

“Yeah,” Dan says quietly, looking back at the boat. 

He absently slides his fingers up and down the stem of his wine glass, thinking that maybe he’s been skimming the surface for too long, spent too much time pushing away the inevitable that absolutely terrifies him the closer they get to the end of this tour. 

“But being able to sleep for as long as I want is going to be nice,” Phil says. Dan watches the boat turn around and speed off out of his line of view. 

“Hey,” Phil says gently. “Dan. Okay?” 

Dan trains his gaze on Phil, offering him an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry,” He says. “Yes. Just lost in thought.” 

“About?”

“Your mum.”

“Of course,” Phil rolls his eyes, amused. 

Phil changes the subject to some game that neither of them particularly care about, but Dan knows Phil’s doing it for him, so he can stay out of his own head for a bit, and he’s grateful for it. They continue to chatter aimlessly together—because that’s what they do best—until their food arrives. 

Dan takes a bite out of some kind of rectangular roll placed in front of him, topped with a tiny slice of jalapeno, and all thoughts leave his brain momentarily. All but his willpower to try not to make a foodgasm face and how much he’s going to tip that waiter for bringing him some of the best sushi he’s had since Japan. 

*

“Google tells me Canada Place has a nice view of the city,” Phil says when they exit the restaurant, slowly walking down the stairs as they both managed to eat their weight in sushi.

Dinner was so delicious, Dan joked that he could simultaneously never eat again from being so full, but also never eat anything but that food again for the rest of his life. 

It felt like a win for both of them too, when Kaito didn’t ask if they wanted the bill split when Phil asked for it. Dan felt his chest tighten for a moment when he walked away without asking them the question, but then Phil raised his eyebrows and smiled at him, and he was reminded of everything they’ve been doing to be themselves without being explicit about it. 

And how fucking nice it is when it’s there, when it’s been acknowledged, and no one is making a big deal out of it. 

“Oh? How far is it from here?” Dan asks when they’ve descended the steps. 

“Five minutes walk?” Phil squints at the phone in this hand. “I think it’s by where we were when we got on the bus earlier.”

“Let me navigate?” Dan asks, reaching for the phone. “I don’t want to get lost.” 

“I won’t get us lost!” Phil protests as Dan gently pries the phone from his grip. “You’re lucky I’m too full to fight you.” 

“Whatever,” Dan says as they walk down the stairs. 

Phil—well, Google, really—was right about how short the walk was. They barely have a chance to figure out their surroundings before they end up in a spot only ten metres away from where they were earlier that day. 

There's a forked brick pattern walkway that appears to meet at the lookout point facing the harbour at the end. It’s relatively quiet, with only a few people on the walkway. 

Phil taps away it is phone as they start down the path on the left, telling Dan that the architect had designed this area to look like a boat before handing him the phone with a picture pulled up.

“That’s...weird?” Dan says, holding the phone out for Phil to take. “But cool? Because it does look like a boat.” 

“Kind of like a less cool version of that resort in Singapore,” Phil says, pocketing his phone. 

Dan nods in agreement, opening his mouth to reply before stopping short, spying something odd in his periphery. 

“What is that architectural madness?” Dan asks, pointing across the way at a bright blue sculpture that appears to be in the shape of a raindrop. 

“Oh.” Phil says, following Dan’s gaze. “Modern art I guess?”

“We could check it out later,” Dan suggests. “Make an good instagram story I think.” 

Phil nods in agreement, and they walk quietly the rest of the way to the lookout point, occasionally breaking the silence to point out signs or things in the water to each other. 

They lean side by side against the railing when they reach the end of the walkway, looking out at the expanse of city across the water and the brooding mountains behind it. The view isn’t unlike the one they had at dinner, but Dan thinks it’s nicer to look at without a pane of glass in front of him. 

Everything still has a slight red tinge to it from the forest fires they were told about earlier, but it doesn’t take away from how nice the pale blue shifting into a deeper indigo looks against the city as the sun sets. 

They stand there in silence, listening to the water lap below them and the distant sounds of the city winding down. 

Dan watches Phil take a few pictures of the sun set along the city skyline, his mind still focused on the conversation they had over dinner. It’s like an anxious plague in his thoughts, and he wishes he could reach into his mind and pull it out, tossing it over the railing and into the ocean. 

“I’m afraid,” Dan blurts out, breaking the silence. 

“Afraid?” Phil asks, turning to him, his eyes full of concern. 

“Of what comes after all of this,” Dan clarifies. “Of what ‘After’ means.”

Phil nods.

“We’ve got what, ten shows left?” Dan continues, looking away from Phil. “And then what? We go home, we edit the film, make videos, see family, follow through with those plans that we haven’t even talked about but...fuck.”

He focuses on the top of one of the mountains. It’s dark, hard to make out, but he stares, almost stubbornly, but lacking real purpose, at the lumpy black blobs he knows to be trees. 

“Dan.” Phil says softly. He looks away from the mountain, biting his lip. 

“We’re going to be fine, _you’re_ going to be fine,” Phil reaches a hand out, ghosting the top of Dan’s gripping the railing, but drops it. “It’s scary, and there won’t be a rigid schedule for us to follow like there is right now.” 

“But first, we’ll be home,” Phil continues. “Where we can do whatever we want, and I’ll be there for you. After is still far away, anyway, Dan. Even if there’s a lot we want to do with it.” 

Dan feels like there’s cotton wool in his throat as he tries to swallow, tears pricking behind his eyes. 

“Phil,” Dan breathes out. “Stop it, you’re such a dick, you’re going to make me cry in public.” 

Phil laughs, and Dan rolls his eyes, emotion still welling in his chest. 

“We’re fine, yeah?” Phil asks gently. “You’re fine?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Phil leans forward against the railing again, looking down at the inky expanse of sea below them. Dan watches him for a beat, and then pulls out his phone, snapping a few photos of him.

For a few moments, everything is peaceful. The smell of salt water is mixed with the musky tones from the fires, and Dan leans his back against the railing, watching the occasional couple pass by them, and the city lights become brighter as the sun continues to set. 

“D’you want to head back?” Phil says a few minutes later, still facing the water. 

“Sure.” 

They make sure to head down to the sculpture across the way first, which they learn is called The Drop for Vancouver’s incessant rainfall, before calling a cab to take them back to the hotel. 

Dan takes a few boomerangs, and laughs at Phil as he does about seven different variations of hugging the sculpture (including one or two poses that they wouldn’t even consider posting on the internet). 

As they walk back up to the pavement to wait for their cab, Phil lightly bumps his shoulder into Dan’s. Their hands brush, and they both reach for each other’s pinkies, interviewing them for a moment before quickly letting go. 

They share a look when they reach the edge of the pavement, and Dan laughs quietly at what they just did before focusing on looking out for any taxis coming their way. 

“What?” Phil asks, clearly amused. 

“Nothing,” Dan says. “Just that you’re great and you’re my best friend.” 

“You’re mine, too.” Phil replies with a smile. 

They’re words that mean nothing to passersby who might happen to hear, but Dan feels a comforting warmth spread through his chest as he smiles back at Phil. 

*

“Do you want to have sex?” Dan asks when they enter his hotel room. 

“I wouldn’t complain if we did,” Phil says, toeing off his shoes. “But I need to shower first.”

“We could do that together?” Dan suggests, quirking an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Phil says, tossing his jacket onto Dan’s open suitcase. “But you have to wash my hair.” 

“Are you actually serious right now?” Dan rolls his eyes, and watches Phil pull off his belt. 

“Of course I am.” 

Phil takes off his jeans and steps out of them before walking into the bathroom. Dan shakes his head, bending down to pick up Phil’s abandoned jeans and lay them across his jacket. 

“Can you grab my shampoo and stuff?” Phil calls from the bathroom. “My room key is in my wallet.” 

“I’m not your personal slave, Phil,” Dan says, reaching for Phil’s jeans again to find his wallet. 

“I know,” Phil says, poking his head around the side of the bathroom door. “But I also know that you’re going to do it anyway.” 

Phil isn’t wrong about that. They both know that for as much as Dan will complain, he’s a complete pushover when it comes to Phil’s requests. 

Dan grumbles and fishes out the room key. He dramatically stomps over to the door while Phil still watches, amused, from the bathroom. 

“You’re ridiculous Dan,” he says. 

“I know,” Dan replies, opening the door. 

It’s a short walk down the hall to Phil’s room, and Dan’s not surprised to see Phil’s suitcase wide open and messy as soon as he walks in. He shakes his head and starts rummaging through the mess. 

The shower is running when Dan comes back to his room. 

“You need to work on your messes, Phil,” Dan calls out, dropping Phil’s clothes next to his suitcase. 

“Your mum needs to work on her messes,” he hears Phil shout over the running water. 

Dan rolls his eyes and takes off his shoes. He makes sure to toss a travel sized bottle of lube onto the bed before stepping out of his clothes. Once he’s undressed, he grabs the toiletries he collected for Phil, walking towards the bathroom. 

He’s met with a thick wall of steam when he opens the bathroom door. 

“Jesus, Phil,” he says, sliding back the shower door. “How hot did you make the water?”

“What?” Phil says, turning around and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“It’s humid as hell,” Dan says, stepping into the tub, handing Phil his shampoo and conditioner. 

“Maybe if you didn’t take ages to get here it wouldn’t be so steamy.” 

“Oi,” Dan says, poking Phil’s shoulder. “Your mess, your fault. I’m not taking the blame for having to sift through your shit. Now let me stand under the water.” 

Phil scoffs but switches places with Dan. 

The water is colder than Dan expected, but it feels nice against his skin, sticky from sweating all day. 

He almost moans when he runs his fingers through his hair, feeling the water hit his scalp and run down his neck. 

“Don’t hog the water, Dan,” Phil says. 

Dan opens his eyes and immediately narrows them when he sees Phil's shampoo in his hands. 

“You just want me to wash your hair,” Dan says with a scowl. 

“Maybe,” Phil says, grinning when Dan takes the bottle from him and squirts shampoo into his hand. 

As he works the product into his hair, Phil leans into him, humming when Dan massages his fingers near his temples. 

“I can't believe you conned me into a head massage,” Dan says. 

“That's just how it is,” Phil replies. “You give me a head massage and in exchange we can be intimate in the shower.”

“Intimate in the shower?” Dan takes his hands off of his head. “Why do you have to say it like that?” 

Phil just laughs and switches places with Dan, washing the shampoo out of his hair. As Dan reaches for his own shampoo, he feels Phil press up against his back, his lips at the base of his neck. 

He kisses up his neck, and Dan shivers, turning to face Phil when his lips reach his jaw. 

Dan kisses him, wrapping an arm around his waist, bringing Phil closer. 

He feels a tug in the pit of his stomach as they press against each other, and he feels himself growing hard against Phil. 

Phil nips at his bottom lip as they continue to kiss, and Dan thinks back to the last time they had sex that was more than a morning quickie or a bathroom handjob. 

It's been so long that he's not even entirely sure when it was, as sex understandably falls quite far down their list of priorities on tour. 

But it's fine, because they're together right now, and Dan can feel Phil hard against his hip. 

He trails his kisses down the side of Phil's face and chest, pausing to flick his tongue against one of his erect nipples. Phil groans and Dan reaches behind him to grab Phil's body wash. 

“Tease,” Phil says, a look of fake annoyance on his face as he watches Dan pour body wash into his hand. 

“Suck it up,” Dan starts working the body wash onto Phil's arms. “It's been ages since we've had sex. I'll tease you if I want to.” 

“It has been a while, hasn't it?” 

Dan nods, running his hands over Phil's chest. 

“Well, it's a good thing we have this week off then,” Phil says. “We can make up for it all.”

“You're such a dork,” Dan snorts. 

Phil puts two fingers under Dan's chin, tilting his head up to kiss him. 

It's cheesy and makes Dan giggle against his lips, but he deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Phil's soapy body. 

He grinds his hips against Phil's, kissing across his jaw. Phil groans, tightly gripping the fleshy part of Dan’s hip. 

“If you kiss me any harder,” Phil says as Dan leans them against the tiles. “We’re going to slip and die.” 

Dan scoffs between kisses. 

“I’m serious,” Phil continues softly. “At least let me wash your hair.”

He runs his fingers through Dan’s hair, trailing them down behind his ears and up his neck before resting them on his cheeks. 

Despite the steam and hot water, Dan feels goosebumps run through his whole body. He’s not sure if it’s because it’s been so long since they’ve had sex, or if it’s just because he’s horny as fuck and the day’s events are starting to weigh down on him, but he doesn’t even attempt to whine or poke fun at Phil. He just wordlessly grabs his shampoo from where he left it after the previous night’s shower and hands it to Phil. 

Phil’s hands are slow and soft against his scalp, and it makes Dan’s body feel like it’s on fire.

They take turns after that, moving like molasses together, taking the time to worship each other until their fingers and toes go pruney and the water starts to run cold. 

Dan thinks that he could stay here for the rest of eternity, that he’d be willing to die here. 

When they eventually leave the shower, lips tinged red and bodies still aching for each other, the bed, lacking the danger of slipping and the discomfort of being a cramped space, is a welcoming sight. 

Phil sheds his towels, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and lays back on the bed. Dan drops his towel on top of Phil’s, pearching at the end of the bed near his feet. He trails a hand down Phil’s right calf before wrapping his hand around his ankle and bringing his foot up to his mouth. 

There’s a part of Dan that just wants to rub one out and be done with it, to release the tension built up from their time in the shower and right now, with Phil splayed on the bed in front of him, looking just as wound up as he feels. 

But no. Instead, Dan presses his mouth to the arch of Phil’s foot, peppering kisses down to his heel, up his ankle, and across the back of his calf. He hears Phil pop open the bottle of lube he’d left on the bed earlier, then a little hitched breath in. 

Dan pauses, nipping at the skin behind Phil’s knee, looking up at him through his lashes. Phil’s pupils are blown out. He’s got one hand on his cock and the other slickly between his legs. Dan licks the back of his knee and leaves a bite harder than the rest, pressing his lips to the spot after. 

“I hate you,” Phil says, his face flushing. “You’re gonna make me come already.”

Dan laughs, a hot feeling tugging in his stomach. It almost takes his breath away, and makes him ache for some kind of contact on his cock. He keeps his hands on Phil, though, and resumes kissing up into the milky flesh on his inner thigh. 

“Let go of your dick then,” Dan says in between pecks. 

Phil grunts, taking his hand out from between his legs and slowing the pace of the hand on his cock hand, but not showing any signs of letting go. Dan sucks on Phil’s thigh, hard enough to leave a mark, snaking a hand up to cup his balls. He rolls them across his palm distractedly, faintly aware of the pressure on his cock as he rests further into the bed between Phil’s legs. He hears Phil take in a breath as he moves farther up his leg, still wetly sucking on his skin. 

The scent of Phil’s body wash mixes with the smell of lube as Dan buries his face in the crease of Phil’s hip. He moves his body further up the bed, moaning at the way his dick rubs against the sheets. 

He moves his hand off of Phil's balls, reaching up to grasp his cock, matching the rhythm of his hand. Phil slips his hand off, resting on the bed as he cards his other hand through Dan’s damp hair. 

Dan, kissing up his hip, briefly considers the fact that Phil is definitely getting lube in his hair, but the thought is gone in a second when he licks up the side of Phil’s cock, making him let out a series of high pitched _ah_ ’s. 

He registers that he's been rutting against the bed for some time as he lacks the precision he’d usually have with his mouth on Phil's cock. 

But Phil doesn't seem to mind. He grips Dan's hair as he goes down on him, barely managing to pull off before Phil comes across his stomach. 

He thrusts against the bed a couple more times, listening to Phil whine as he rides out his orgasm. 

Dan puts a hand next to Phil's thigh, steadying himself as he sits up, straddling Phil's left leg. 

Phil, red-faced and looking spent from coming, sits up too, reaching forward to wrap an arm around Dan's waist, grasping his cock with his free hand. 

He so worked up that it only takes Phil a few pumps and a bit of wrist action to make him come. 

It's almost blinding when he does, and a warm, tingling feeling spreads through his body, making him dizzy. It's been so long since they've had sex like this, had enough time to take care with each other instead of just getting the job done. 

Phil's still holding him, his hand lightly stroking Dan as he finishes on Phil's chest. 

Dan pushes gently on Phil's shoulder when he's done, prompting him to lay back on the bed. When he does, Dan moves off of his leg and lays down next to him, burying his face into the crook of Phil's shoulder. 

He feels like he could stay like this forever, flushed and still riding on the blissful high of sex and being with Phil. But he glances down at the come on Phil's torso and remembers the lube in his hair. 

_Forever would be nice_ , he thinks, _if Phil wasn't so damn messy_. 

“Why’d you have to put your lube-y hand in my hair?” Dan mutters. 

“Hmm? Oh. Sorry.” Phil giggles softly, and Dan pokes his side, knowing that Phil isn’t the least bit sorry. 

Dan pokes Phil a couple times more, laughing as Phil threatens to file for divorce. He rolls his eyes and gets up from the bed to grab a damp washcloth from the bathroom for Phil. 

“Slob,” Dan says as he watches Phil toss the cloth on the floor after cleaning up. 

“I’ll pick it up in the morning,” He says, tucking under the covers. 

“You won’t,” Dan replies, turning off the light and sliding into bed next to him. 

Phil doesn’t try to refute him. “You’re lucky I didn’t tease you about the waiter,” He says, and Dan lets out a fake gasp, clutching his chest. 

They stay quiet after that, and Phil rolls onto his side, tossing an arm over Dan’s middle. 

“Alright?” Phil says after a moment. 

“Yeah,” Dan pauses. “Tired.”

And he is. It’s the kind of tired that seeps into your bones, the kind that drags on even after a full eight hours sleep. It’s the kind of tired that Dan saw in Phil but didn’t let himself succumb to. Not when there were thirty shows left, or five, or one and then drinks, and then a day out in a city he doesn’t know. There was always the unique thrill that comes with this job, and videos to film with contracts to uphold, and places to rush to with people they don’t want to disappoint to keep him from crashing. 

But now there’s the utter relief that comes with turning off the ever present alarms on their phones, and being able to—momentarily, at least—forget about the videos and the contracts and the constant audience. There’s relief in the weariness Dan’s finally letting himself feel, and while he’s sure some of it will follow them to the next continent, he’s grateful for the time he gets to lay back and let it pass. 

“Me too,” Phil says softly. “But we’ve got all day tomorrow. And the day after that.”

Dan hums in agreement and turns over onto his side, his back facing Phil. He feels Phil move closer to him, slotting his knees in behind Dan’s and tightening the arm around his torso. It’s nice and calming, and Dan huffs out a sleepy sigh, nuzzling closer to Phil. 

He lets his mind wander, to the series of inevitables, to After, to the gaming videos they’ll have to film while they’re here, to the stories they’ll try to make interesting even though neither of them is going to want to leave the hotel. Dan pushes the thoughts away because all that matters right now is Phil holding him, and he just doesn’t feel like dwelling on anything inevitable in his future besides sleep. As he listens to Phil’s breaths slow as he falls asleep, Dan can’t think of a better way to stay living in the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a bit of a love letter to my city, and some of the places I've enjoyed myself in immensely. All the ocs in this are even based off of real people I've met (though the bird handler in the park is a direct copy of one of my best friends with one letter of his name changed). 
> 
> You can like/reblog this on [tumblr](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/post/178123605672/for-you-are-not-beside-but-within-me-rating-e) if you want! 
> 
> The title is taken from "Loving Someone" by the 1975.


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